Strangeland
by beauteblanc
Summary: Inspired by "Strangeland" by Keane, a view of one of Castiel's most cherished memories with the Winchester brothers. Trigger Warning: suicide, plenty of angst.
1. 1

"'Ay, Cas!"

There came a delayed response from the angel, his vessel's hands having splayed a large, weathered map across the hood of the beloved Impala, his thought process conjunctive with the soft blue of his eyes as they scanned the expanse of the map. A glance up was issued, expression stoic; the older Winchester, Dean. He tossed the machetes he'd been in possession of to him of which Castiel reciprocated to easily, hands snatching a hold of them.

"Throw these in the back, will you?" He asked, voice gruff as always; it was a sound that the angel had become accustomed to, perhaps even reliant of.

"Of course." Came his response, accompanied by a nod. With the weapons in tow, he made his way to the trunk of the Impala, his gaze cast across to the younger Winchester who'd been flicking through the assorted tapes. Castiel watched in a curious manner at the way Sam's brows came to knit together before gently setting the machetes in the trunk.

"Hey, Dean? Were you aware that we had a camera amongst all these tapes?" He inquired, a large hand holding up the device; it was aged, a little scratched and decorated with several nicks, but still operable by any standards. A smile was elicited from Dean, a hand extended.

"Throw it here, I'll hang onto it; toss all those tapes on the backseat." He told his little brother, digits flexing towards himself in a gesture that he was to hand it over. He complied easily, chucking it across to the other as though it held no sentimental value; thankfully, he caught it expertly, no damage done to the camera itself. Castiel could never appear to understand the lack of care humans took, particularly the Winchester brothers; weapons were handled as though they were their pride and joy, but mundane objects such as the one found? Not quite.

"You got the route sorted out for us, Cas?" Called Dean, thoughtfully appraising the camera; it had seen better days, he came to conclude. It was worth holding onto regardless. The angel gave a nod that went unseen by the older Winchester, the trunk gripped and shut; there was no exerted force to the action unlike most would do to the trunk of a car, particularly as Castiel understood the value of the Impala to the Winchesters; he was unwilling to be responsible for any form of damage.

"I have." He confirmed. "Dean, there's- somewhere I'd like us to stop off, seeing as we're passing through California for this job."

"Oh?" An arch of a brow, curiosity lacing the green of Dean's eyes. "Show me on the map, Cas, lemme see." He requested, to which the angel returned to the map upon the hood of the Impala, Dean strolling across to it. The older Winchester watched as Castiel scanned the map once more before directing an index finger; not far from Highway 12, north of Corolla.

"Carova beach." Castiel declared, punctuating his confirmation with the slight inclination of his head. He understood the sense of puzzlement, the glances exchanged between Dean and Sam; what was so special about a _beach_?

"Uh," A hesitation from the older Winchester. "Care to explain, buddy?"

"Yeah, we're uh… we're a little lost on this one, Cas." Sam supplied, scratching the back of his head.

The angel glanced between them, the briefest of amusement in ocean eyes; seldom did such expression appear within Castiel, such a moment rare indeed. Eyes wandered back down to the map, digits stretching along the coordinates thoughtfully.

"It is secluded, very few properly know of its existence; I thought it would perhaps be pleasant to stop there a while. It has… been a long time since I have been there." He mused softly, his expression becoming distant, vacant. The silence between them was a warring faction of sovereignty as to whether or not it would be comfortable or uncomfortable. It was Dean that broke the silence.

"Sure,"

The angel immediately cast his gaze to Dean, quietly surprised that he had agreed. He blinked, his head slightly cocked to the right, expectant of a further response. A smile came from Dean, one of which gradually broke into a grin.

"Sure, we could do with a little break, what the hell." Shoulders were shrugged, a nod came from Sam; the two appeared to agree on the matter. A slight smile upturned Castiel's lips in his satisfaction, offering the two one final, wayward glance before heading to the back door of the Impala.

"I call shotgun! Sam, that means _you're_ driving." Dean commented briefly, a hand tugging at the shotgun door's handle; his little brother rolled his eyes at this but chose against any complaints. Instead he took to the driver's seat as told; each door was shut one after another once everyone was in. With the keys in the ignition, Sam's gaze flicked to his brother as he gripped the back of the seat to twist himself around.

"'Ay, Cas, see if you can find any Black Sabbath amongst that lot." He told him, gesturing with an index and middle finger in a slight circular motion as he spoke. The angel nodded, his vessel's hands gently scattering the various tapes about the backseat; it took a minute or so of brief concentration until he was successful, a hand extended to Dean with the tape. The older Winchester smiled appreciatively, reaching out to grasp it. It was a gentle motion, Dean's fingers brushing against Castiel's unintentionally as he took it from him, Castiel's form evidently tensing with uncertainty, a feeling of warmth; the same happened in the other male.

Ignoring it, Dean shook his head and slipped the tape into the port, curious hands returning to the camera he'd set aside on the dashboard to keep the map flat. His head nodded lightly in tune to Black Sabbath; how pleasant it was again to hear them.

"Uh, I thought the _driver_ picks the music?" Sam interrupted, albeit awkwardly. His big brother glanced across, brow slightly furrowed at his little brother's questioning.

"Well in _this_ instance, _shotgun_ picks the music, driver shuts his cakehole." He retorted, however childishly it may have seemed. The younger Winchester simply rolled his eyes yet again with an exasperated sigh, hands gripping the wheel.

"Whatever, Dean." He huffed, though it was hardly in a nonchalant manner.

"What, you gonna sulk about it?" Dean teased playfully, to which his little brother responded with a glare. He said nothing, refusing to be provoked any further by the older brother and chose to focus on driving. He glanced over the dashboard to check the route on the map, confirming his understanding with a nod.

"Carova beach it is." He commented, putting his foot down on the peddle, the Impala screeching off to a start down the road.

All the while, Castiel remained quiet in the backseat; a small smile refused to leave his rugged features. To simply watch the two interact was a genuine pleasure to him, as it was to travel with them.

To him, they were family.


	2. 2

For once, Dean appeared strangely eager to be on the road; to Sam, it was slightly odd. To Castiel, well; he took little notice, simply admiring the view of the landscape of California that continuously flitted past their eyes. With Black Sabbath roaring in their ears, the older Winchester wound down his window and clambered to reach out, one hand clenching the roof of the impala to steady himself; in the other sat the camera, fully-functioning and apparently of use to Dean. Against the roaring wind at the speed of the Impala, his over-shirt billowed, short spikes of hair refusing to stay in place; to feel such a powerful blast against his exposed form was amazing, he realised. A woop of exhilaration howled from him, eliciting smiles from both Sam and Castiel alike. To see Dean in good spirits promised good things indeed.

"Careful, Dean." The angel murmured, although his words of caution went unnoticed; to a degree, he was happy to accept that. To ruin Dean's pleasure, no matter how simple it appeared to be, would be a crime.

"Yeah, I don't exactly want to be left with just the lower half of my brother's body." Sam snorted, the glance cast across to Dean kept brief in order to maintain his sight on the road ahead.

"Sam?"

The angel. Sam narrowed his gaze back to Castiel briefly.

"Yeah, Cas?"

There was a moment of hesitation for the angel, lips parted as though to speak although his words refused to come to him. Understanding of this, Sam continued to drive down the highway, though he kept attentive of Castiel should he suddenly decide to speak; it was the least he could do, after all.

"Is this sudden happiness common for humans?" The angel inquired, his head slightly cocked as appeared to be habit with his questions. Sam hesitated, barely able to function on the road with such a question jarring his thought process.

"'Ay, bitch! Eyes on the road!" Dean barked back to them, having apparently noticed the lack of focus to his little brother's driving. Sam immediately snapped to the attention of the road with a swerve of the Impala, a wince marring his features at the screech-like sound of the tires. Thankfully, Dean had not heard Castiel's question; perhaps there would be no harm in replying.

"Well, Cas…" Sam began in his uncertainty, his concentration divided between driving and an explanation of some significance to the angel. "There hasn't really been… much to smile about in our lives, y'know? I'm really not gonna lie here; it's been a whole load of crap for us. Sure, it's had its ups and downs for us, but really, it's been pretty hard. I think… that little suggestion of yours managed to bring a smile to Dean's face. For once, he's… genuinely happy, I think." He mused, a slight shrug of his shoulders ending his narration; he was almost glad that his expression remained unread, a sense of tiredness about his features; the younger Winchester was emotionally _drained_ at such a conversation.

There came little response from Castiel, a slight 'mmm' in the back of his throat to assure Sam that he had heard him, understood his explanation. Silence between them yet again, disregarding the roar of Black Sabbath.

"Thanks, Cas."

"What?" Confusion laced the angel's tone; what need would Sam have to thank him? Was it customary to simply say it once in a while, or was there some significant purpose behind his sudden words?

"For making my brother happy today; he needs it. In fact, we both do." He smiled, albeit a small one. "I dunno if you need us as much as we need you, but… yeah, we need you, Cas." He concluded, tapping his index and middle finger of his right on the wheel to the beat of Sabbath. The response from Castiel's thought process was incredibly delayed at this point, considering Sam's words in a state of thought.

No.

He needed them just as much as they needed him; wasn't that what family was about? Or at least, that was the concept Castiel had come to grasp. His brothers in heaven had been incredibly dysfunctional, their true sense of family swayed and chaotic, perhaps even unpleasant to him. Teeth softly worried his lower lip, eyes of a gentle blue dancing back and forth as his mind continued to function in an analytical manner.

"I need you too, Sam. I need both you and Dean too."

Sam attested to this with a backward glance to Castiel, his smile for once genuine, much like his big brother's had been for the past few hours.

"You think he'll come back inside anytime soon?" Sam asked as opposed to replying to the angel's comment.

"It seems highly unlikely." He told him, amusement once again encircling the blue of his eyes. "Now, do as your brother said, Sam; eyes on the road." He almost teased; he managed to toy with the concept of teasing, much like Dean often did to the younger Winchester.

"Yes, _sir_." Sam huffed, drumming his fingertips once more on the wheel, eyes locking properly on the road ahead as ordered by his brother, reinforced by the angel. He heard a chuckle slip from Castiel's lips that brought a smile to his face, his heart lightened by another woop of exhilaration from his brother half-outside the Impala.

Today was a good day to be alive, he concluded.

Today was a good day to have family like this.


	3. 3

The weather had cleared up, it seemed; by the time they had set off, the skies were marred with dreary clouds of grey, the aftermath of rain the previous day. By now it was pleasant; the skies were empty bar the few birds that circulated above the area in a graceful sequence of swooping and then soaring the blue above. Castiel was the first to admire such a sight, eyes remaining fixated even once the Impala was parked at the side of Carova beach.

The keys of the Impala on the loop were swung by deft fingers after having been taken out and locked the vehicle, Sam scanning the expanse of the beach. It was just as the angel had said; perfectly secluded, not a soul in sight, the only apparent life being the few wild horses that roamed the protected dunes.

"Well, I'll be damned." The younger Winchester commented softly, his other hand kept to the pocket of his jacket. "Cas was right to stop off here." He remarked, although he received no response from his big brother, who had been at his side mere moments before; just how childish had Dean planned on becoming today?

All that could be seen and heard was Dean racing across the expanse of the beach, arms outstretched and a howl of laughter, a woop similar to that of the sounds that had left his throat when they'd been on the road. Castiel watched the other, intrigued by his joyful behaviour. A glance was exchanged between the angel and the younger Winchester, much like Dean and Sam had first done at Castiel's suggestion of this place though it lacked the uncertainty; instead there sat happiness on behalf of the older Winchester.

"I'm, uh- gonna go take a wander." Sam declared simply, to which Castiel nodded. He watched the younger Winchester depart in the other direction down the beach with his hands slipped into his pockets, long legs making his strides swift to take him from view. Instead, the angel focused on the older Winchester further towards the shoreline. Choosing to follow him as he leapt at the ocean, he quietly took pleasure in seeing Dean appear so ecstatic; how childish he looked, prancing the shallow waters, a lack of concern for the water that may have come to slip into his boots.

Castiel paused at the shoreline, allowing the salt water to flow across his shoes in a rhythmical motion of the waves; it was peaceful, brought about a strange sensation of overwhelming relaxation, overwhelming serenity. Dean took a sparing glance over his shoulder, his grin unfaltering. Giving his boots a quick shake in between steps, he came to return to the angel.

"I haven't been to a beach in forever." The older Winchester chuckled, albeit sadly; as a matter of fact, he failed to remember any incidents in which he'd been at a beach. It wasn't particularly something that had been apparent in Sam's childhood, much less Dean's. He joined Castiel at his side, turning on his heel to cast his gaze across the vast ocean; seldom did the older Winchester care for view, but having been directed to such a place by the angel appeared to bring him peace of mind.

"I forgot how… beautiful, it was here." Castiel mused, rigid in posture despite the way he felt, his words reinforced by the inclination of his head once again out of habit. He took a moment to allow his gaze to wander the expanse, much like Dean did also in their exchange of silence.

"Perhaps I failed to appreciate it before; perhaps now… I see the beauty of this place for what it is, unlike I did in the past; I was blind to it all." The angel pondered, the digits of his hands flexing continuously to his words.

"Thanks for this, Cas." Dean smiled appreciatively, to which the other nodded, his expression hardening with thought.

"Why do you people keep thanking me?" He inquired genuinely; despite Sam's previous explanation, it was still a mystery to him and his understanding. Humans were strange, eloquent creatures with their ways and means of interaction. To think that he currently inhabited one was even more of an oddity to the angel.

Dean arched a brow at Castiel's lack of understanding, or supposed lack of understanding, shaking his head.

"Cas, without you, things would be a lot different. If you weren't here, we wouldn't have come here today, and I probably wouldn't be feeling good like this. That was _you_, Cas. You were the one who thought of that for us. You were the one who gave us this day." He attempted to explain alongside the gestures of his hands as he spoke, brows knitted together in search of a way to deepen what was supposed to be a meaningful response.

Silence once again surpassed them, hesitation about the two though they exchanged long glances. The older Winchester felt inclined to briefly search the beach for his brother, noticing an overly tall figure at the other end, admiring the wild horses, or at least he cared to assume so. Returning his sight to the angel, the two chose to gaze across the ocean as opposed to one another.

A gentle touch; Dean stretched a hand over, gentle fingers entwining around Castiel's hand. Alarm was raised slightly in the angel who glanced down at their hands, uncertainty in the blue of his vessel's oculi flitting between them and Dean's smoothed over expression. Lips parted to speak, perhaps protest or say something of significance, though nothing came in the slightest.

"You mean a lot to us, Cas." Dean spoke, his typically gruff voice having softened towards Castiel in an unexpected manner. His voice began softening even further for reasons unspoken. "You mean a lot to me." He confessed, vibrant eyes of green unwilling to leave the sea before them. How was Castiel to respond?

"I-" He faltered, his eyes finally settling upon the face of the older Winchester. "I understand, Dean." The angel informed him, slipping his digits in between Dean's, sharing the hold and tightening it; from such a simple hold he drew an undeniable sense of comfort, a sense of _warmth_.

"You mean a lot to me too, Dean." Lips turned skyward in a smile, the void-like expression eradicated by such a change in his features.

"You mean a lot to me too."


	4. 4

Oh, how _wonderful_ those memories had been, how he'd _cherished_ them so; to flit through them once more was both a pleasure and the final breaking of his heart, his very _soul_. The angel was no longer in the company of the Winchesters, no longer able to see them joking about or hear the older antagonising the younger.

They no longer trusted him; in their eyes, it was betrayal. Surely his actions had been justified, his requirement of power to face Raphael. He had gone to Crowley for assistance, to aid him in his time of need, in the struggle against the archangel. To be forsaken by the ones he considered family shattered Castiel. It mattered not, however; nobody cared that he was broken.

He overlooked the Carova beach once more, noting the pleasant glistening of the setting sun against the ocean cast out beyond the golden sands, orange skies gradually deepening in colour closer to the horizon; approximately seven in the evening in California. Castiel's eyes slipped closed once more to reminisce in the memories of the brothers; he could feel hot, thick tears stinging at his eyes, blinking to relieve him of the sensation, to allow them to cascade down his rugged features.

He'd tried so hard to forget the Winchesters, to forget the pain that the rift between him and them had caused; nothing had worked. He had pondered several times if what he had planned on this warm evening had been far too drastic, and yet, this appeared to be the only solution. A hand came to rest upon the bark of the roadside tree, a tremor surging through his vessel's digits, almost as if it _knew_ his decision; of course it did. The most pained of smiles twitched at Castiel's lips, though it refused to stay for long.

"Sam, Dean," Castiel began, addressing them as though they were there; still the tears streamed of their own accord, blurring his vision of the setting sun across the Carova beach.

"Thank you," He spoke first and foremost, his voice faltering. "Thank you for… for everything; for these experiences, for these… these _memories_. When I first came into possession of this vessel, I… did not expect to come into possession of such fond memories, to have _experienced_ what I have. You helped me to experience the world as I should; you helped me to become _human_." Another smile, lips quivering with the sheer willpower it took to wrench a smile onto his face when his heart refused to comply.

"Sam," He began, choosing to address them individually as of now; he could almost picture them in front of them, almost within his reach. His other arm outstretched in a grasping motion, the angel longing for their forgiveness, for redemption; if redemption would not be supplied by them, then he would take redemption for himself.

"Thank you for being who you are; you have become family to me, and I would refrain from changing you for the world. You and your brother are destined for greater purposes, the path ahead of you a difficult one. Promise me- _promise_ me, that you will protect yourself, and your brother." He narrated, his voice scratchy with pain; there was no shudder to his shoulders, no wracked sobs; only tears that silently cascaded.

"Dean," The angel began for a final time, his nails clenching against the bark of the age-old oak. "I… wish I could have told you how I had come to feel; you and I have always shared a profound bound, far beyond the likes of which I have ever felt before. I think… you humans call it love. I have never before experienced this feeling, but with you… I do." He confessed openly to himself, a single shake of his shoulders finally apparent.

"I'm so sorry, Dean… so, so sorry. I did- I did what I had to, not what I wanted to." He choked, inhaling deeply to quell the tremble in his vessel as eyes slipped closed once more; he refused to allow himself to appear as broken as he was. "I am so sorry for betraying you." Was his final whisper upon quivering lips.

He'd already wound the rope, already pulled the knot tight; with it attached to the sturdy branch of the tree, Castiel took a brief glance down to the rock he stood upon. Holding the knot of the noose in his once outreached hand, he settled it gently around his throat. With another deep inhale and exhale, he repeatedly blinked to clear his vision, blessing him with the beauty of the sunset once more.

The angel wanted such a gorgeous view to be the final thing he cast his sights upon; the place where his memories were strongest, the most cherished by his tattered heart.

Satisfied that he had taken in the view of Carova beach at its finest, he took one final inhale of breath; he raised a leg, the other pushing the rock from underneath him. The noose immediately tightened and ensnared his throat, cutting into his windpipe as ocean eyes widened significantly; yet he did not struggle. He seemingly accepted the suffocating sensation, the lack of oxygen in his lungs as the tears blurred his sight once more, blinked out and permitted to trickle. His shadow told another story, however; despite the stillness of his form, the shadow portrayed by the setting sun displayed wings that thrashed violently, feathers dislodging and fluttering easily.

Still, he continued to choke, a slight noise coming from his vessel; Castiel attempted to picture Dean for one final time, though it was a struggle. It was a distorted vision, though he managed to make out the smile of the older Winchester, a smile that he loved very much so. Limbs began to cease their twitching and jerking, his vision whiting out.

A finally heart ceased to beat, a vessel falling limp in the noose.


	5. 5

"Cas?!"

A call of the angel's name so panicked despite its gruffness; Dean had ground the Impala to a halt further down the road from Carova beach, a feeling of dread tightening in his gut. Sam had to be the one to lock up the vehicle, his older brother having abandoned it in his alarmed state. Things had to be put right between them and the angel, or so Sam came to assume that was Dean's initial thought.

"Castiel?!" He called again, his full name this time, something rarely spoken by the older Winchester.

"How do you even know he's here, Dean?" Sam called, his logic overruling his concern; they had only stopped here for a day. Why would it be the most significant place of search?

"I just know it, okay?! Just shut up and look for him!" Dean lashed back to his little brother, to which Sam had responded to with a flinch, blinking back his shock at the unexpected snapping. As opposed to replying verbally, the younger Winchester attested to Dean's words with a nod. He followed after the other, his gaze wandering furtively around the expanse of the secluded beach. He stopped however upon realising that his brother had frozen in his tracks, unable to step further.

"Dean?" Sam called softly, focused on his brother as opposed to what his brother stared so brokenly at. Almost reluctantly, he followed Dean's line of sight, the same knotting sensation overtook his stomach.

There he hung; the broken angel, wings cast by his shadow limp much like his vessel.

"Give me your hunting knife." Dean hissed.

Sam was thrown off by the command, blinking somewhat. "What?-"

"I said give me your fucking hunting knife!" His brother snarled back at his little brother, an aggression in him unlike the likes of which Sam had ever seen; it was the aggression of a man whose heart was so very close, yet refusing to break. The younger Winchester easily reciprocated, producing the blade from the inside of his jacket pocket and handing it to the older. Dean immediately snatched it from his little brother, making a bolt for the lifeless body of the angel up the slight inclination of the dunes.

Sam followed a short while, but as opposed to continuing closer to Castiel, he remained positioned further away; he was not one to get in the way of his brother, at least not now. He watched, a feeling of helplessness overwhelming him as Dean cut the angel down, gently removing the noose from his neck.

"You _stupid_ fucking _angel_," Dean hissed, although it reverberated in his throat as a choke more than anything, his features twisting with a confliction of anger and anguish. He gingerly took the limp form of Castiel's vessel into his hold, cradling him; such tenderness would not be on display had the circumstances been different, had he found the angel alive and kicking as opposed to strung up from a tree.

"_Why_?" Dean demanded, his voice breaking as he glared down at his face; the stoic expression that usually sat upon such rugged features had ebbed away, leaving behind a sense of peace, serenity in features no longer pained. His breath had run ragged, shaky with each exhalation, once vibrant eyes of green refusing to leave the face of the angel.

"Why would you do this to us, Cas? To _me_?" He spoke, all-too brokenly, the rough exterior to his voice worn away to leave an anguished murmur. Oh, how he rocked Castiel's body like a newborn babe, clinging to him like a poor man clings to gold; like he'd never let go again. A deep breath was taken, a yell of sheer grief muffled in the trenchcoat.

"I came to find you to apologise, Cas; to ask you to come back to us. And now you're- you're gone." He sobbed openly, continuing the gentle rocking motion. Sam could only watch from afar, unwilling to disturb his older brother's heartbreak, unwilling to attempt console an inconsolable soul. It pained him to watch, but it would have pained him to walk away.

Tears splashed and decorated the angel's still face in several droplets, of which Dean wiped gently with the heel of his palm.

"I loved you, Cas, no- I _love_ you; so, so much. And I needed you. In fact, I still do. But you're gone." He told the lifeless form cradled in his hold. He reached down, softly placing a kiss to his cold lips. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut to shed another set of tears, he gripped the vessel tighter, drawing him close to his chest once more to rock him once again with his face buried in the angel's shoulder, his own shoulders shuddering with the sheer force of his sobs.

"Come back to me, Cas." Dean whispered against the trenchcoat, damp with his tears.

"Come back to me."


End file.
